The Resistance
by Syrialla
Summary: Gordon is not the only one employed by the mysterious Gman. Another has been taken, and as the clock ticks, the teenage Alyssa must realize her power and the power held within her past to defy the limits of her age and experience and lead the resistance. And all the while, the Gman is watching.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Half-Life. Nor do I want to . . . screams, "The pressure, man, the pressure!!" The only thing I own is Alyssa, the plot, and potentially some minor characters that no one cares about. Nothing else. I'll just let Valve come up with all the good plots and stuff while I sit back and write little fanfics for my own amusement. :P

Author's Note: I'm sorry for this, but basically this entire chapter is just a prologue to get you all info'd up on the Half-Life universe. The next chapter is when the actual story starts. Depending on how people accept this, I may or may not continue writing fanfics and move onto writing novels. But that's a long shot for a 14 year old! :P So please, no flames, but if you have suggestions, I would gladly contemplate them. Please R&R!

The Resistance

By

Syrialla

**Prologue**

Earth was once dominated by the most intelligent and complex life form in our solar system: humans. Until _they_ came.

No one knows how long ago it happened. The years have all melded together into one long stream of suffering. All we know is, the transfer was overnight . . . Everyone's lives were changed in a matter of hours. We called it the Seven-Hour War. Yea, our very advanced and invincible military force was crushed in _seven hours_. Sad, isn't it?

The unstoppable forces that decimated our military are called the Universal Union. Not that _we_ call them that. To us, to the entire human race that has to live in such close proximity to them, they are known as the Combine. Don't ask why we call them that. Honestly, I don't know, but my best guess is that . . . well, you'll find out soon enough.

The Combine run our lives, from which path we can walk on down by the street to the amount of rations we receive daily. They have even found a way to stop our reproductive cycle. That's right, no young children are running around in the streets or playing at the park. Ridiculous, isn't it? The few of us who still live age five years every year because of the incredible pressure put on us by the knowledge that no children are there to take our place once we die. Slowly but surely, the Combine are dooming our race to extinction.

And that's why, for some civilians, joining the Combine is the only option that appears to them. Yes, you read me correctly, there are people who actually _join _the Combine's forces just to get a decent meal. Or whatever their "reason" is. Personally, I don't understand how they can become traitors to the human race.

Civil Protection is what they're called. They patrol the streets, canals, alleyways, everywhere, and are the protectors of their base of operations, City 17. These guys are donned with dinky-looking (actually, somewhat intimidating) white gasmasks. With cold, iron hearts; with stun batons at their sides, they slowly oppress all of the civilians of our once beloved City. They are the ones that invade our apartments for suspected anticitizen movement, disobeying orders, smuggling in food. And if they don't have a reason, they'll find one.

But Civil Protection are nothing compared to the Combine Overwatch. They are the big baddies. Making up of most of the Combine's humanoid army (yes, the Combine are massive enough to be way beyond having humans in their army, but we'll get to that later.), they wear (not-so-dinky) gasmasks of a deep gray color, and dark gray clothing for camouflage. What is probably the scariest thing about them is that their "eyes" shine blue through the masks, even glowing in the dark. Trust me, being trapped in a pitch black room with those guys will give you nightmares.

Perhaps the most elusive form of Combine I've seen with my own eyes is the Overwatch Elite. The only time you will see them is if they pass by on a secret mission, and then that's the last thing you'll ever see. If the Combine think you are a threat and you have evaded all of their attempts to annihilate you, they'll send these guys after you. Don't ask me how I survived seeing one. You don't want to know.

That is definitely not all that the Combine have. I'm sure you're thinking, _Oh, is she done ranting on about how powerful the Combine are? I GET IT ALREADY!_ I'm here to say: No, I'm not. And you most certainly do not get it. You need to know what you are up against, in case I don't survive.

The Combine have Synths: once living, breathing creatures that have been fused with mechanical parts. I haven't seen the Combine using them in battles, but I have seen certain, shall we say, Striders, walking down the street. But I wouldn't doubt that they have thousands more at their disposal.

Also, I've heard stories; stories about a time before I had arrived at this City just a short while ago. Stories about the harshness of the Combine. Of a mother weeping in the dusty streets because they had ripped her newborn from her arms and hauled it away, screaming. Stories of how an old man was beaten just because he muttered one word, one single word, against the Combine; of how he was punished with a flogging to the head by an electric baton, struck until he fell to the ground, and then subsequently kicked and beaten until the Combine declared that his life signs were "indistinguishable" from the cement slab he lay on.

I've heard stories of them forcing sister to kill sister, of a mother poisoning her own son in order to save her life. And if and when people refused, the Combine cut them off from life and did the dirty deed themselves.

I will be going on a long journey after I write this account. And I'll probably be at the end of it by the time you get your hands on it. But I am going to be searching for the key to end all this. I'm going to be seeking out the heroes for this story of mine.

These people, the keys, the heroes of this story are the ones that secretly oppose our oppressors, the ones that hate the Combine and have decided to take action. They are called the Resistance. And this is our story.


	2. Chapter 1: Enter the Victim

**Chapter 1**

My eyes fluttered open to see the world with a vision clouded by pain. A throbbing head indicated that I must have taken a hard blow. I blinked my eyes several times as a dark brown wall of unfathomable filth swam into sight. Groaning, a wave of sleepiness washed over me, making my eyelids sag. _C'mon, stay awake!_ I mentally chided myself. Thinking through the pain and tiredness would be tough, but necessary to survive, because quite frankly, it was unwise to be lying on the floor in some unknown place for who knows how long.

I went through a mental checklist to make sure that I was all right. _Let's see . . . my name is Alyssa . . . Age is 14 . . . The last thing I remember is . . . is what? _I thought hard about that last question. What did I remember?

I remembered that I had had a strange dream before waking here. And the dream had seemed to last for eons. Mentally, I tried to recall what it was about, grasping at it like a person cupping water, but slowly it trickled away into the blank folds of memory. Madly, I tried to snatch it back, but it was flowing deeper and deeper into my mind. The farther I followed the dream into memory, the heavier my eyelids felt, until, frustratedly and unwillingly, I was pulled back into a deep sleep.

I awoke again what seemed like hours later, but it might have been mere minutes. The pain in my head had dissipated to an occasional throb, although my back was stiff from sleeping on a hard surface. A distant symphony of gravelly voices reached my ears, and though I subconsciously knew something wasn't right, I still layed there, reveling in the wonderful feeling of waking up from a much needed rest. Until the reality of it finally clicked a minute later.

Gasping, I sat bolt upright so fast the thought didn't even cross my mind that something large, hard, and made of metal might have been right above me. _Clang!_ My head slammed against it and lights exploded behind my eyes like fireworks. Cussing under my breath, I could literally see the pain painting colors on my eyelids as my heart nearly stopped beating from the sudden shock. It was such agony that I went into a fetal position, clutching my head, willing the pain away with all my mind. That was twice now in a short span of time that my head felt like it was going to explode. For several minutes I sat there, grimacing and fighting back the onslaught of pain.

When the throbbing had mostly faded away, I began to form comprehendible thoughts. _What happened to my room?! Where am I? How did I get here? Is this a dream? _I released my head and scrambled to my feet, ready to run at a moment's notice. Forcing myself to slow my breathing, I listened for several tense minutes for even the slightest noise. I heard nothing. But had anyone heard _me?_

The darkness surrounding me was so thick that I could almost touch it, but through a nearby window, a thin stream of light had managed to squeeze its way through a tiny, jagged hole. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could see that the window was one of many, completely lining a hallway, all the way down into blackness. Dirt was plastered on them in so many layers that light could hardly get through. _Hmmm . . . this is too real to be a dream. How the heck did I get here . . . and how long have I been lying on the floor?_

I glanced at the floor for clues, then up at the filthy brown ceiling, and finally I cast my gaze into the darkness for any sign at all of where I was. The hallway extended into blackness on one side, while on the other I could see the outline of a pile of debris. With a single glance I could tell that I wouldn't be able to move any of it, without causing catastrophically large amounts of noise. Then I saw the window smeared with red. _Is that . . . blood?_ I started to cautiously walk over to the window and . . . _What was that?!_

Something had snapped nearby, and a loud droning noise started up as I dropped to my knees, rolling to my right just as a manhack buzzed past my ear. Bloody-hued, a red laser lit up at its center as the whirring sphere of metal locked onto its target: me. Quickly, it zoomed back towards my body and clicked, thrusting its hidden blades outward, slicing my shoulder open. I inhaled sharply, crunching my face up in pain as the manhack flew past me again.

I could hear the manhack's rotor get louder as it rushed closer, so I reached around my back to find something, anything. Scrambling, my shaking fingers met a cold metal object, and I grasped it tight. Pivoting around to face my enemy, I raised the object high over my head and swung down with all of the force I could muster. It smashed into the manhack, emitting a satisfying crunch. It crashed into the floor and bounced back into the air from momentum. An irritatingly loud siren started up as it drunkenly tried to stay aloft, its light now a sick orange. I quickly put it out of its misery with a good placed swing.

Releasing a breath of relief, I turned my head to analyze my shoulder. Tentatively, I reached out a finger and prodded it. I seized up with pain and grimaced, quickly releasing pressure. I turned my gaze to the dysfunctional manhack on the floor, then I cautiously walked to it, dropping the metal stick I had with a clang. _That'll teach you for messing with me_, I thought, kicking the manhack's metal carcass with a satisfied smile. _But if _you _were here, then that means . . ._

Almost as if on cue, the same gravelly, metallic voices I had heard earlier started to yell, only this time with the accompaniment of boots clanging on a metal floor. "Over here," one voice transmitted over a radio. _Ugh, Civil Protection._

_Where to go? Where to go!?_ Backing up from the window nearest me, I mentally prepared myself. My heart felt like it was about to burst; my muscles were tense, my emotions running wild. I inhaled slowly and closed my eyes. This could either be the end of me, or it could be the one act that would save me.

I sprang forward and took a flying leap, kicking my bent legs out in front of me, bringing my arms up to cover my face. I heard a loud crackle of "Stop or I will open fire!" The last thing I glimpsed was the bright flash of a gun muzzle in my peripheral vision. Then, a kaleidoscope of flying glass filled my vision. Extremely bright light from the world beyond the window made me squint, but the sight of it glinting off of the glass into a million different colors was so beautiful, it was almost like those stories of God looking down on his subjects. I could have shed a tear, if I wasn't falling for my life.

Then I was brought back to reality as I felt the bullet whiz through my hair and shards embed into my arms and thighs, my hands and shins. The pain made it feel like I was falling in slow motion, and when I didn't hit the ground for what seemed an eternity, my heart started to race faster and faster. _How high up had I been? _ Then, finally, I slammed into the earth, screamed and stumbled, and almost blacked out with pain. My ankle twisted horribly and the world went dark.

_Get . . . up_. I painstakingly cracked open an eye. My ankle hurt abominably. _Ugh . . . damn ankle._ The sun beat down on me from above, and I could almost feel my exposed skin frying. I shielded my eyes as I looked upwards. A CP was standing in the jagged hole of glass that I had created, steadily holding a rope as another CP shimmied down it to the ground. I rolled over onto my belly with a grunt, pushed myself up, and hastily rose to my feet. Without a backwards glance, I started limping towards a nearby alleyway, thinking all the while, _How much bad luck can a girl have?_ I heard one of the CPs yell, "Hey, stop where you are!!" Do you think I listened? Then I heard the pistol fire.

The bullet flew past my leg and buried itself into the soft earth, spraying crumbs of dirt. I pushed myself to go faster. I could hear heavy, pounding footsteps behind me, gaining ground on me really fast. The second bullet hit me in the back of the shin. "Agghh!!" My leg buckled beneath me and I fell lopsidedly to the ground. Hard. Hard enough to send me rolling ten feet across the dirt. Panting, I felt a giant weight fall on my back and fingers grasp my wrists. _Frick._ I flipped onto my back so quickly that my hands were wrenched free from the CP's grip. Staring up at the distorted white mask, I made a disgusted face and kicked him in the gut. He grunted and doubled up in pain, falling off of me to the side.

I got to my feet and threw a glance over my shoulder. The second CP was rushing toward his fallen comrade while trying to aim his gun at me. I spit on the grounded CP, then, limping, I ducked into the alley and moved as fast as I could. I was lucky only to get shot once. If you could call that lucky.

I knew these systems of alleys well. Officially, I was out of sight from the Combine for about 0.583 miles. Finally, a breather. A sudden realization struck me then. The CPs would report me to Combine Overwatch. Crap, crap, crap, crap . . . crap.

Without warning, I heard a click and a brilliantly white light flashed into my eyes. Blind, stumbling, cursing, flailing my arms out in front of me, I thumped into the alley wall. Of course, I was out of sight unless there just happened to be a scanner patrolling the area. Which, of course, there was.

I crouched down towards the wall, tucking my head in so the scanner couldn't get another clear shot of my face. Blinking, I slowly regained my eyesight as I squeezed closer to the wall. My gaze searched for a door as I peeked under the protective covering of my arms. There! A door! _Yes! Some good luck for a change . . ._ Side-stepping over to it, I quickly stood up and yanked it open as another click sounded behind me and light flashed around me. Jumping inside, I slammed the door and leaned my back against it, exhaling slowly. _I need to get out of this city . . . but how?_

Looking down, I saw that I was standing on a floor mat. It read "Welcome to 771 Mark Avenue." _Well, thank you for the welcome, 771 Mark Avenue. It is greatly appreciated. _With no where else to go, I painfully jogged up the stairwell in front of me, all the while blood was trickling down my leg onto the metal grates, leaving an easily traceable trail.

I turned off on the third floor by a brightly lit hallway, because all the other floors were blocked off, but mostly because my ankle wouldn't be able to stand more stairs. My cautious flight took me into the hallway and through a right turn into a minute kitchen. I analyzed the room for danger: cupboards, blue recycling bin, counter . . . windows! Set in the back wall were three windows, overlooking a street. I started towards them. Then I saw the man.

He was sitting behind the counter at a round table, his face slumped against it, near his beer bottle, cup, and what looked like a radio. Silently and cautiously, I stalked over to the windows and amusedly looked down at the man. _Knocked out . . . naturally. That's what people get for drinking a whole bottle of beer when their system isn't ready for it._ Then I turned my gaze outside, sadly peering out into the deserted street, listening to the steady broadcast across the radio. Breen. Of course.

A flicker of movement preceded a pack of scanners floating across the sky, their metallic bodies glinting in the sun. Their design was a sideways teardrop, tapering down to a flimsy tail with a square "face" at the front, from which a crimson light radiated. Their snapshot-taking abilities, their uplink to the Combine Overwatch, and their strange appearance were all linked to that one light. A flutter of anxiety flared up in my chest. They officially had my picture on file. It wouldn't be long before they came to get me.

_It's unusual that scanners would be in a pack, especially around here. Unless . . ._ "CPs! Hide!!" The unexpected warning echoed throughout the building. Mr. Drunk groggily woke up and said, "Huh . . . where emsh I?" He smacked his lips and looked up at me with sleepy eyes. "Who're you?" I heard the CPs pounding up the stairs, and I flew back into the hallway, took a left, hastily opened a door, and fled inside.

I closed and locked it, limping down the small hallway before me. A room to my right held an escape solution. There was yet another window set in the wall, open, its curtains fluttering in the breeze.

"Don't move! Stick your hands behind your head," the gravelly voice of a CP shouted. A cry of agony floated through the hallway. Then a guy gasped from the next room as the sick crack of a stun baton reached my ears. A deep, crackly voice threatened, "If you will not comply, the verdict is . . ." I didn't hear him finish the sentence, nor did I want to. I was already climbing out the window, looking for some sort of escape ladder. _There!_ I flattened myself against the brick wall, stepping oh so carefully towards my salvation.

Sirens blared from off in the distance. Looking up into the bright sky, I saw the ominous presence of the Citadel looming over the city. It was the largest building anyone had ever seen, let alone lived right beneath. Skinny and a deep, metallic blue, it had to be miles high, so high that I could never see the top because it was obscured by clouds. And, to reassure everyone that it was Combine material, entire sections that were thousands of feet long could _move. _Yes, you read me right. The building could frickin' _move._ Sheets of metal could retract to allow absolutely enormous masses of Combine Synth to quickly be deployed into the air. I had never seen it happen personally, but I've heard stories. And I believe them.

Below me, a Combine vehicle pulled up with a whole crapload of Overwatch soldiers. They hopped off of the vehicle and started shouting at me, aiming their guns at my legs. I could feel a drop of sweat roll down my brow and fall into my matted tangle of long, black hair. It whipped out in front of my face, obscuring my vision and my breathing space.

Unexpectedly, my injured leg buckled underneath me. "No!" I teetered on the edge, my fingers trying to grasp the brick wall, and then finally lost my balance, plummeting headfirst into the dark street below. Suddenly, my body snapped backwards as something grabbed onto my ankle. A searing white hot pain lanced up my leg all the way into my skull, stabbing my brain like a million tiny, sharpened needles. Of all things, the person just _had_ to grab my injured ankle! Painfully, I craned my neck upward and squinted through the encroaching blackness of my vision.

A white mask was staring out of the window at me, with eye sockets blacker than night. The mask owner's gloved hand extended out of the window and was clutching my ankle with an iron grip. He started to pull me up back into the window as I was gave into the blackness of pain.


	3. Chapter 2: A Bad Letter Day

**Chapter 2**

"Ohhhhhh . . ." It felt like an unstoppable army of painful minions was storming into my skull, sticking pikes into my brain and trebuchets were launching flaming debris at the fortress of my mind. Or so it felt.

I could sense myself being roughly jostled about, my head flopping around unsteadily, jarring my brain. Distorted huffing sounded above my head; boots pounded erratically against metal; my body moving in time to it, supported at both neck and knees by textured leather. Groggily, I opened my eyes, unveiling a blurred image of rushing lights.

My scream reverberated harshly back into my ears, but was abruptly cut off as a black gloved hand quickly descended over my mouth. Above me, the shadowy outline of a bulky mask looked down. In an instant I switched from groggy and pain-racked to a ball of live energy, squirming and kicking with all my might, pounding at the hand over my mouth with balled up fists and trying to bite through the tough leather.

"Stop it; I'm helping you!" came a deep, gravelly voice. The world spun around me suddenly as the support under my knees dropped. My feet contacted ground, a white hot fire lancing up my leg as I unsteadily reached out for anything to lean against. One hand grabbed a fistful of leather, while my other planted itself firmly against a wall.

"Don't EVER touch me," I managed to whisper. It vehemently echoed around as I stared at the floor, pain threatening to black me out. There was a pressure on my fingers as a rough glove hurriedly uncurled them from the thick material and pulled my arm around a pair of padded shoulders, yanking the support of the wall away from my grasp.

I groaned angrily as the humanoid started forward, pulling me along. My brain hardly registered the significance of leather armor, the presence of the stun baton openly visible at the waistbelt, the stark white mask hiding a face from the world. The lights from the corridor swirled around in my blurred vision, giving me the sensation of being in a circus and another onslaught of lightheadedness.

Together we moved, the man walking quickly towards an unknown destination with myself limping beside him, completely oblivious to anything that was going on. My leg was on fire every time I put weight on it, and I felt like I would fall to the ground if I didn't have the support of his shoulders.

Comprehending was beyond my mental capacity. The importance of the fact that there was a clink, a loud grating sound, was lost on my, as was the fact that my arm suddenly slipped from its brace as I was shoved into blackness. Then realization hit me like a giant wave, and I only knew one thing: I didn't want to be alone in that cold darkness. Gasping like a fish out of water, I whipped around unsteadily to face the lighted corridor I had traveled down, and the being that was either to be my savior or my end: a Civil Protection agent.

He stood in a sturdy position, framed in the doorway of light. Static crackled as the distorted voice spoke. "You need to get out of here now. Overwatch has the building surrounded and is raiding it as we speak. Here, you'll need this," the voice ordered me, deep and intimidating, despite its desperate, almost conversational tone. I felt something small and metal shoved into my hands. "Take this path all the way to the end, then go left. Follow the signs that say 'Northern Outlet' until you come to a red ceiling hatch; it leads to the surface. Once you're through it, you'll be in the open, so run as quickly as you can for the nearest alley. It will take you to an abandoned Northern Petrol building. Inside, in the basement, there is a soda machine; I'll meet you there in an hour. Stay low and be careful." The CP craned his neck over his shoulders as screaming sounded in the distance. "Go." I stood there silently, trying to absorb everything that had been said.

"Now!" he roared, pushing me further into the dark passage. I stumbled back blindly, glaring at him through my blurred vision. He turned on his heel and slammed the door, darkness engulfing me.

"NO!" I screamed, launching myself at the door, slamming my fists in a pitiful attempt to open it. "Open this door, dammit!!" Slowly, I sunk to the ground in a heap, tears streaming down my cheeks as I curled up in a defensive ball, my long black hair trailing down my back onto the ground. After several minutes I regained my composure, twirling the object in my hand over and over, fingering it to see if there was any switch of some sort. There was a minute click, then a fuzzy golden light illuminated my surroundings, revealing dingy walls and faded graffiti. I stood up, shaking, completely overwhelmed by what had just happened. _So close_ I had been to being taken into their custody, but yet, here I was, standing in blackness. Maybe this _was_ their custody.

I took a first reluctant step forward. There was no going back, and I didn't believe in dwelling on the past or what _could_ have happened. It was a waste of time. There was only what _had _happened.

Down the dark passage I went, flinching at every odd squeak, every drip of water, every ominous echo. _I hate the dark . . ._ The pain in my head had died down, quenched by an overwhelming fear that consumed my very being. All I wanted to do was get out of there as quickly as I could, and fleetingly I began to wonder if there was a God and if I had entered Hell.

But there was also a tinge of frustration to my thoughts. I couldn't remember anything that had happened before I had awoken in that windowed hallway, pursued by the Combine. My name and age I knew, but nothing of my past, my parents, how I came to be in this strange place. But, ironically, I recalled who the Combine were, I recalled Civil Protection, I recalled the predicament that City 17 was in. I recalled _information, _but nothing else as to the events leading up to my being there. Nothing at all.

Except . . . that man. The man with a blue suit . . . briefcase . . . piercing green eyes . . . _Now why can I remember him but nothing else? What did he do that makes him so . . . special?_ That thought persisted the entire time I walked down that long passage of death and despair, and finally, when I reached the end and took a left, I was nearly at wits end.

My voice was hoarse as I queried to myself, "So, Alyssa, how's the family coming?"

"Fine, fine, life's great. How 'bout you?"

"Great, just perfect. Do you know what's going on?"

". . ."

"Hello?" Spontaneously, a small queasiness pricked my belly. I lifted up the tattered, baggy shirt I wore to look at it. "Oh, that's strange, Alyssa, I don't recall my stomach being so swollen. Do you?"

"Not at all."

I stared quizzically into the darkness, then my brow slowly crinkled in anger. "I need to lay off the Krispie Kremes, don't I? Damn. I love those Krispie Kremes. Wait . . . what are Krispie Kremes?" I thought hard about that, waving the flashlight around absentmindedly. I shoved my long, greasy black locks out of my face, then stopped suddenly to analyze my hand. Once dainty, my long fingers were calloused and dirt-stained inside the little wrinkles engraved in my skin. I stared at it, fascinated. An image flashed before my eyes:

_Before my face, a bloody hand was raised, blocking the flames in the background. Fingers, normally thin and slender, were now torn and bloody, nails cracked and ripped off. Suddenly, the dirt ground rushed up to meet my face as I fell to my knees, a booted heel pressed against my neck, a voice in the background yelling, "You won't get away this time, little b-"_

Something screeched. The flashback was torn from my mind as I whirled around, the beam of light dancing wildly all over the walls, fleetingly illuminating dark objects for a split second before leaving them to darkness. There was a slight scraping noise, and then a ghostly flash of blue in the distance. Ominously, a tisking noise resonated up the corridor, almost imperceptibly soft but gradually increasing in volume until it was right next to me. The hair on my arms stood on end as a cool breeze blew over me, making me feel like ice.

Nerves on end, I suddenly screamed as something wrapped around my arm. I bolted into the blackness, my light source bobbing up and down on the walls as I ran lopsidedly, ignoring all pain. The pounding of my shoes echoed hollowly down the dark halls. Though my strength was failing, I didn't realize it until I misstepped and lost balance, arms flailing. I dropped the flashlight with a clatter, and stumbled forward as it shattered into thick pieces of plastic, leaving the hall as black as night.

Something soft and squishy lay in wait to break my fall. The moment I made contact, a horrible stench hit my nostrils. Struggling to get up, I felt an arm wrap around my chest. Wheezily, and very faint, a voice whispered in my ear, "Please! Help . . . me . . . Get it . . . off . . . argghhh . . ." It tightened its grip around me, sharp nails digging into my skin. Little chirruping sounds suddenly erupted from behind my head as I sunk further into the soft flesh of a . . .

"ZOMBIE!!" Spasmodically, I ripped the gripping arm from my chest and scampered to my feet, in my haste slipping in something gooey, and I lurched backwards to the hard floor once more. Instantly, a weight fell on me, crushing my lungs as the chirruping sound started up again. There was another flash of blue light nearby, briefly illuminating the creature on top of me. The hideous image burned itself into my retinas: the fat, four-legged creature perched atop the head of a young man, his mouth open in terror, the flame of life draining from his eyes.

"Help me!! Aaaaggghh! Uhhhhhhhhhhhhgggggg . . ." The once high-pitched human pleas had now turned into garbled, intelligible utterances. I reached out my arm, frantically fingering through debris for the source of the blue flashing, frantically trying to hold the zombie above me with my other hand. I could feel the once-human slowly turning, his flesh dying and rebuilding into thick tissue, and imagine his vocal cords lengthening, his brain slowly being eaten alive. My searching fingers hit an object, and I grasped for it and pressed a button.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!" Bright blue light poured into its face as I kicked the beast off of me. It painstakingly rolled off onto the ground with a sick thud, and the light flickered to the ceiling. There! The red hatch!! I heard the monster moaning on the floor as it reached out with a clawed hand to grab my leg. Up in a flash, I latched onto the exit ladder with my free hand and pulled upwards with all my strength. Finally, the grip on my ankle released; I was free, and hurriedly twirling the hatch wheel open. There was a clink, a puff of dust, and then I heaved on the metal "Northern Outlet" door, emerging along with it into the somewhat fresher air of midday.

Coughing and gasping, I rolled out of the hatch onto rough dirt and dried grass, my arms flopping outward. Too tired to move, exhausted from the flood of emotions and physical labor, I lay there on my back, reveling in my temporary freedom.

The now-familiar dull throb of pain came back to ruin my day. The headache had gone, but my leg still hurt abominably. Shielding my eyes, I looked straight up into the hazy blue sky, devoid of clouds. It would have been a beautiful day if I hadn't been spending the whole of it running for my life. I shifted slightly and suddenly the sun went out. Confused, I looked upwards towards a giant metal watch tower, sleek and black against the sky. _How could I not have seen that before?_ Suddenly, I remembered the reason why I was even there. In all the excitement, I had forgotten. To find the Northern Petrol building. To meet up with a man from the force that was trying to kill me and all of mankind. That made no sense at all. Why was I even going? It was probably a trap.

With a sigh, I propped myself onto my hands, the metal object still grasped between bloody fingers, and then, very slowly, got to my feet. _Screw this. I'm going my own way. Besides, it's been more than an hour anyways._ _They won't miss me if I don't come now. _I shoved the heavy device into a pocket for further use, not bothering to look at it as an image of a blue-suited man flickered across its screen.

_Well . . . what now?_ I scanned the clearing I was in. There was the alleyway, yes, but also some train tracks that I could possibly follow . . . eh, no, they'd be guarded heavily one way or another . . . but then again . . .

There was an ominous grating sound, and I looked up towards the massive, looming skyscraper that dominated City 17. The Citadel's giant plates were retracting, exposing inner mechanisms and . . . "Whoa!" Whirling around, I scampered towards the alleyway like a rat. Huge black clouds of scanners poured out of the open Citadel, blotting out the sky and swarming over the city. But also, enormous packs of gunships were being ejected from the skyscraper, flying around in search of their prey.

"No, no, no, no, NO! How can this be happening _now_!?" I yelled furiously. I ducked behind one of the many heaping dumpsters lining the alley, squeezing between it and the wall.

"Hey . . . ST 5 . . . come in . . . over . . ."

"What!?" I cautiously withdrew what I now realized was some sort of communication device. On its tiny blue screen I saw a woman, dressed in leather gear and a hat, her hair astray and her voice cracking in fear. I held flipped a switch that I assumed was used to talk.

"Uhh . . . ST 5 is . . . gone now . . . over?" I smacked the device against my hand to clear it of static, but that only made the screen go black. "Hello? Are you still there?" Frustrated, I chucked it against the wall with a smash, then I sunk to the ground, arms folded, a throbbing headache starting up again. Anger flared up in me quickly, almost for no reason at all. I felt pissed at the whole world. I mean, couldn't it just give me a break for five frickin' minutes!?

Apparently not, as there was an extremely loud booming alarm that permeated the air. I took my time getting to my feet, and then peered out of the alleyway. The Citadel was no longer moving; it's plates were locked in place, fully retracted, leaving gaping sections where sleek black parts were exposed. What the parts were for, who knows. Almost everything about the Citadel was unknown to me, and just looking at it gave me the jitters.

"Scout T . . . 5 . . . or whoever . . . are . . . come in . . . over." Groaning, I ran to find the com link device, digging through rubble and garbage alike.

"Yea? What's going on? Over."

"Citadel . . . alert . . . rumors . . . Freeman . . . back . . ."

"What!? What about what's his name?"

"Where are . . . located? Over."

"Uhhh . . . I'm by . . ." _Should I lie or not?_ "I'm by . . . ST 5 . . . or where they used to be."

"Where's the . . . Team? Over."

"Zombified."

"Damn . . . get . . . away . . . there . . . Overwatch . . . coming . . ."

"What!? Where do I go? What do I do? How many . . . oh shit." Shadows started crawling up the distant alley walls as a steady thunder of boots slowly increased in volume. Suddenly, a loud hum started up, blade-like as a black chopper swooped above the alley.

"Go . . . now! Many . . . coming . . . squads . . . scanners . . . chopper . . . Get . . . out . . . there . . . canals . . . escape . . ."

"What!? Where!? Where are the canals!?" There was nothing but static in reply. I cursed, then ran out of the alleyway. "Ohhh, shhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!" The center of the clearing came into view, along with the very advanced looking Combine chopper that was landing in it. Its powerful rotors sliced through the air, throwing a mighty wind into my face as dark suited figures hopped out of its open sides, weapons in hand. _Nooooo, not Overwatch!_

Turning on heel, I hightailed it out of there towards the other end of the passage. I was fenced in on both sides; Overwatch and a copter on one, and an unknown amount of Combine on the other. The shadows kept on advancing, but I burst into the open canal regardless, sprinting away from the Civil Protection that shouted exclamations at me.

"Miscount sighted. Permission to engage?"

"Deploy non-lethal tactical rounds. Engage, disinfect, recover," a metallic, feminine voice ordered over the CP's radio. There was a burst of gunfire as I ran down a steep bank towards the canal, into the mucky water below. The fired rounds were poorly aimed and went splashing away, spraying putrid liquid all over my face. Awkwardly wading through the muck as quickly as I could, the Civil Protection were grunting as they ran to find better positions.

"Stop where you are, or you will be charged with anticitizen status!" Unexpectedly, a rage burned up inside of me. Twirling around, hair flying, I leaped out of the water at the nearest officer, instinct taking over. It was all a blur as I snatched the pistol out of his hands, butting him in the head with it, firing at the others. There was a flurry of color, a scream of "Outbreak! Outbreak! Outbreak!" from an officer, and before long, I stood above five Combine bodies, huffing for breath. _Whoops._

I started running towards a nearby bridge overshadowing the canals, and not a moment too soon. Out of the alley poured four Overwatch soldiers, sleek alien rifles in their hands, donned with black armor and masks, staring out through glowing blue goggles. Simultaneously, they raised the rifles to their shoulders and fired as they ran towards me, advancing down the riverbank in formation. I ducked quickly underneath the bridge as bullets sprayed into the water where I was standing moments before. Struggling, my energy suddenly left me, with a sudden craving for rest . . . and a banana. _Uhhhhh . . . What the hell?_

I emerged from under the bridge to see another riverbank, hemmed in on two sides by concrete walls, with two bridges, one above me and one far off in the distance, arching over the canal on the other two. Oh, and it was chock full of large explosive barrels. With no time to think, I leaped behind one, out of sight from both the river and bridge. There was a moment of radio chatter while a droning started up in the distance, but then the Overwatch soldiers quieted. Thinking of the inevitable battle to come, I checked the pistol in my hand to see if it was in working order. _All's well. Now I just need a frickin' banana . . ._ I mentally berated myself, _Ugh, now's not the time for random food cravings!!_

The distant droning became a hum. Something was coming up the river. I peeked from around the ugly red barrel just in time to see four rather intimidating alien hybrid soldiers running up the bank to meet me, their armor glistening from the water. In perfect formation, they fanned out to surround me and my difficult self, hiding behind a drum that could explode upon any sort of minute contact. The pistol in my sweaty hand started to look like my only sliver of hope as I readied myself to fire. Suddenly, there was a huge burst of garbled remarks as the Overwatch soldiers started shouting loudly and raucously.

Clad in orange armor, a man driving a metallic contraption of some sort shot up the river, water spraying in his wake, the motor humming loudly. A soldier cried, "Anticitizen sighted! We must cleanse the infection!" The man and his machine sped right under the bridge, the Combine splashing after him. The droning eventually faded off into the distance, followed by uncustomary expletives from the Combine soldiers.

The Overwatch Dispatcher announced in a feminine voice, "Eliminate secondary target immediately. Commence to expunge the anticitizen." _Click!_ A small metal cylinder clinked next to me, glowing bright red and reeking of danger. My pupils widened in horror. With a curse on my lips, I dived out from behind the barrel, away from the grenade, with an absolutely horrible trajectory: straight for the Combine soldiers. My arm reaching forward, I shut my eyes tight as I felt my finger pull the pistol's trigger four times.

The blood throbbed in my ears, blocking out all noise but the sound of ragged breathing, of my startled heartbeat. Impacting ground, I rolled down the riverbank and plunged into the water, eyes closed all the while, waiting for the feeling of bullets penetrating flesh, waiting for it all to end. Nothing happened.

The pungent water shot up my nostrils and ear canals, making me squirm in disgust. Silence . . . and then the grenade blew. The decibels boomed through the canal, piercing my eardrums despite the muffling effect from the water. It resonated through the water, and after I couldn't stand living without air anymore, I breached the surface, hearing myself gulp down air and wheezing away. And then I saw _him._

His dusty cobalt suit almost blended into the sky, but his black hair stood out in stark contrast as he stood behind the bridge's railing. He was poised almost as if nervously, but yet perfectly confident, briefcase in hand. Our gazes met for a split second; he nodded, and then walked away out of sight. I splashed through the water, yelling, "Hey! Who are you? What do you want from me!?"

"I just saved your butt, so you better be grateful!" I turned to look behind me, up at the wall above the canal. There stood a man, garbed in CP uniform but holding his helmet in the crook of his arm. His face was roundish, youthful but yet strained, hosting some stubble of a beard. "Where were you? I told you to meet me, and I find you almost getting yourself killed! You're lucky I was here to kill those Overwatch soldiers, otherwise you'd be just another floating corpse in that canal. Now c'mon! There's a ladder over there." He pointed with a gloved hand over to the corner of the bridge and the concrete wall. Anger and annoyance was etched in his face.

I glared up at him, mumbled, "Fine," then waded out of the water and climbed up the blasted riverbank. _Why does he care so much? _Most of the barrels had been decimated, but, surprisingly, the corpses were mostly intact. _Pfft, the man thinks _he _killed those soldiers. _I _was the one that had to jump towards them to save my hide, and he just sits up there and decides its the perfect time to kill them off as I'm flying towards them . . ._

"Hello? Are you alive? Over." Slowly, sighing a breath of exasperation, I reached my hand for the walkie talkie and brought it up to my mouth, flipping the switch.

"Yes, I'm alive. Over."

"Good. I'm sorry about that; we were encountering some strange interference in our radio patterns, but it's gone now. I don't know what could have caused it, but . . . wait, I hear that Barney has found you. Great; you two should head on over right away, we need to get you off of the streets . . . or in this case, the canals. Over."

_Ugh . . . okay, but I don't share your enthusiasm. I have no where else to go. Might as well. _I looked up at the CP . . . well, the man. _Pfft, Barney . . . what a weird name. Should I trust him?_ He glared at me and urged me to go faster. _Well . . ._

I clambered up the ladder and jogged to meet up with him. Side by side, we went to the south, the sun gradually sinking lower on the horizon. There was a gargle of static, then my radio chattered to life once more. "Have you heard anything about Gordon Freeman? Are the rumors true? I can't get through to Barney right now. Over."

Smiling slyly, Barney grabbed the radio from my hands and transmitted, "Well, if you mean anything about an orange-suited man driving a motorboat, attracting the attention of Overwatch and forcing the Citadel to full alert, then Gordon Freeman has arrived. Over." I smiled. _I guess I could get used to him._

He handed the radio back to me as we walked along the service road of the canals, elevated enough to see the water routes for a distance. The water was tinged orange with the sun's rays, though there was at least another hour of daylight left.

"Oh, and by the way, do you guys have any bananas? Over."


End file.
